Scenes from a family Christmas.

At home for Christmas. My dad, after a bit of wine, starts telling me about the time he slept under a bridge somewhere in the American midwest on his way back from Mexico in 1971. My mother walks in to the room. I make a bad joke.

Me: Mum, would you be okay if I slept under a bridge?

Her: Would you be alone?

Me: Yes.

Her: (pauses for a moment) Which bridge?

5 months ago  /  3 notes